Chapter 13 About punishment and reward

SNUFKIN continued to scull in silence for a long time. Moomintroll sat looking at the well-known and comforting outline of his old hat against the night sky and the puffs of pipe-smoke rising in the quiet air. ‘Everything’ll be all right now,’ he thought.

The shouting and clapping behind them faded slowly away, and after a while the strokes of the oars and the dripping of water were the only sounds to be heard.

The dark streaks of the shores disappeared from sight.

Neither one of the two friends felt any great need of talking. As yet. They had time; summer lay before them, long and full of promises. At this moment their dramatic encounter, the night and the excitement of the flight were quite enough, something not to be disturbed.

The boat curved back to the near shore again.

Moomintroll realized that Snufkin was leading the pursuers astray. Far away in the darkness shrilled the Hemulen’s police whistle, answered by others.

When the boat glided in among the reeds beneath shadowing trees the full moon was rising from the sea.

‘Now listen carefully,’ said Snufkin.

‘Yes,’ said Moomintroll, and the spirit of adventure speeded through his soul on mighty wings.

‘You’ll have to return to the others at once,’ said Snufkin. ‘Then come back to this place with all who want to go back again to the Moomin Valley. They must leave the furniture at the theatre. And you’ll have to hurry away from there before the Hemulens begin keeping guard. I know them. Don’t stop on the way, and don’t be afraid. The June nights aren’t dangerous.’

‘Yes,’ said Moomintroll obediently.

He waited a little, but as Snufkin didn’t tell him anything more, he climbed ashore and started back along the creek.

Snufkin seated himself in the stern and carefully knocked the ashes from his pipe-bowl. Then he peered out between the reeds. The Hemulen was sculling steadily seawards. He was clearly visible in the moon-path.

Snufkin laughed quietly and began to fill his pipe.

*

The water was going out again at last. Newly washed shores and valleys were slowly creeping up in the sunshine again. The trees were the first to rise over the water. They waved their dazed tops in the air and stretched their branches carefully to feel if they were safe and sound after the disaster. Those that had broken off hurriedly put out new sprouts. The birds found their old sleeping-places

again, and higher up on the slopes, where the water had already disappeared, people began spreading out sheets and clothes to dry on the ground.

As soon as the water began falling everybody started for home. People rowed or sailed, night and day, and when the water disappeared they continued afoot to the places where they had lived before.

Possibly some of them had found new and much nicer places during the time the valley was turned into a lake, but still they liked the old places better.

*

As Moominmamma sat beside her son in the stern of Snufkin’s boat with her handbag in her lap, she didn’t give a thought to the drawing-room suite she had been compelled to leave behind her. She thought about her garden, and wondered if the sea had raked the gravel paths as neatly as she used to do herself.

Now Moominmamma began to recognize her surroundings. They were rowing through the pass to the Lonely Mountains, and she knew that behind the next turn she would catch sight of the big rock at the entrance to the Moomin Valley.

‘We’re coming home, home, home!’ Little My was singing in her sister’s lap.

The Snork Maiden in the prow was looking down at the underwater-scape. At present there was a meadow beneath the boat, and some of the tallest flowers brushed lightly against the keel. Yellow, red and blue, they looked up through the clear water and craned their necks towards the sun.

Moominpappa was sculling with long, even strokes.

‘Do you think the verandah will be above water?’ he asked.

‘Time to look when we’re there,’ said Snufkin, looking back over his shoulder.

‘Dear me,’ said Moominpappa. ‘We’ve left the Hem-ulens far behind us.’

‘Don’t be too sure,’ replied Snufkin.

In the middle of the boat there was a bathing-gown covering a strange little hump. The hump moved. Moomintroll poked lightly at it.

‘Won’t you come out in the sun for a moment?’ he asked.

‘No, thanks, I’m really quite all right,’ a mild voice replied beneath the bathing-gown.

‘She gets no air at all, poor little creature,’ Moominmamma said worriedly. ‘She’s been sitting like that for three whole days.’

‘Small Hemulens always are shy,’ Moomintroll explained in a whisper. ‘I believe she’s crocheting. It makes her feel safer.’

But the little Hemulen was not crocheting. She was laboriously writing in an exercise book in black waxcloth covers. ‘Strictly forbidden,’ she wrote. ‘Strictly forbidden, strictly forbidden, strictly forbidden.’ Five thousand times. It made her comforted and content to fill one page after another.

‘How nice it feels to be good,’ she thought quietly.

Moominmamma squeezed Moomintroll’s paw. ‘What are you thinking about?’ she asked.

‘I’m thinking of Snufkin’s children,’ replied Moomintroll. ‘Are they really going to be actors, all of them?’

‘Some of them,’ said his mother. ‘The Fillyjonk will adopt the untalented ones. She can’t manage without relatives.’

‘They’ll miss Snufkin,’ said Moomintroll sadly.

‘Perhaps at first,’ said Moominmamma. ‘But he intends calling on them every year and he’ll write them birthday letters. With pictures.’

Moomintroll nodded. ‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘And Whomper and Misabel…. Did you notice how happy Misabel looked when she first realized that she could stay on at the theatre!’

Moominmamma laughed. ‘Yes, Misabel was happy. She’ll act in tragedies all her life and have a new face each time. And Whomper’s the new stage manager and every bit as happy. Isn’t it fun when one’s friends get exactly what suits them?’

‘Yes,’ said Moomintroll. ‘Great fun.’

At that moment the boat ran aground and stopped.

‘We’re stuck in the grass,’ said Moominpappa, peering over the gunwhale. ‘We’ll have to wade.’

Everybody climbed out from the boat.

The little Hemulen was hiding something obviously very precious under her dress, but nobody asked what it was.

The water still reached up to their waists, and it wasn’t easy to make headway, even if the bottom was nice, soft grass and no stones. Here and there it sloped, lifting flowering tussocks like paradise islands over the surface.

Snufkin walked last. He was still more taciturn than usual. He kept looking over his shoulder and listening.

‘I’ll eat your old hat if they aren’t far behind!’ said the Mymble’s daughter.

But Snufkin only shook his head.

The pass narrowed. Through the opening between the rock-faces shone a glimpse of the friendly greenness of the Moomin Valley. And a pointed roof with a gaily fluttering flag…

Now they could see a turn of the river, with the blue-painted bridge. The jasmines were already in bloom! The Moomins splashed happily onwards through the water, talking all at once about everything they were going to do when they came home.

Suddenly a shrill whistle cut the air like a knife.

In a moment the pass was teeming with Hemulens, in front, behind, everywhere.

The Snork Maiden hid her head at Moomintroll’s shoulder. No one spoke a word. It was so awful to be nearly home again and caught by the Hemulic police.

The Hemulen came wading towards them. He stopped before Snufkin.

‘We-ell?’ he said.

Nobody answered.

‘We-ell?’ said the Hemulen again.

Then the little Hemulen waded up to her cousin as fast as her legs could carry her, dropped a curtsy and handed

him a black exercise-book. ‘Snufkin repents and says he’s sorry,’ she said shyly.

‘I’ve never…’ Snufkin started to say.

The big Hemulen silenced him with a glance and opened the exercise-book. He started to count. He counted a long time. While he was busy the water continued falling and after a while it was only ankle-deep.

Finally the Hemulen said: ‘Yes, this is quite right. “Strictly forbidden”, five thousand times.’

‘But,’ said Snufkin.

‘Please don’t say anything,’ said the little Hemulen. ‘I’ve really enjoyed it, honestly I have!’

‘What about the notices?’ said her cousin.

‘Couldn’t he put up some new ones instead, around my vegetable plot?’ asked Moominmamma. ‘For instance, “Visitors are asked to leave a little of the lettuce”?’

‘Oh, yes… I suppose that would do,’ replied the Hemulen slightly crestfallen. ‘Well, looks like I’d have to let you off. But don’t do that ever again!’

‘No,’ they all said obediently.

‘And you’re coming home, I think,’ continued the Hemulen with a severe glance at his little cousin.

‘Yes, if you aren’t angry with me,’ she replied. Then she turned to the Moomins and said: ‘Thanks ever so much for your suggestions about the crocheting. I’ll send the slippers as soon as they’re finished. What’s the address?’

‘Moomin Valley’s enough,’ said Moominpappa.

*

They ran the last bit. Up the slope, in among the lilac bushes, straight to the front steps. There the Moomins stopped, drawing a long breath of relief and feeling what it felt like to be at home. Everything felt right.

The beautiful fretwork railing on the verandah was unbroken. The sun-flower was there. The water barrel was there. And the flood wave had bleached the hammock to a really nice colour. Of the whole flood only a small puddle was left near the front steps, a very suitable swimming-pool for Little My.

It was as if nothing had ever happened and as if no danger could ever threaten them again.

But the gravel paths were strewn with sea-shells, and on the porch hung a wreath of red sea-weed.

Moominmamma looked up towards the drawing-room window.

‘Darling, don’t go inside yet,’ said Moominpappa.’ And if you do, keep your eyes shut. I’m going to make a new drawing-room suite as much alike the former one as possible. With tassels and red plush and everything.’

‘There’s no need for me to shut my eyes,’ Moominmamma replied gaily. ‘I believe the only thing I’m going to miss is a good revolving stage. I think it would be nicer to have mottled plush this time!’

*

In the evening Moomintroll went down to Snufkin’s camping place to wish him good night.

Snufkin was having a quiet smoke by the river.

‘Everything all right?’ asked Moomintroll.

Snufkin nodded. ‘Absolutely everything,’ he said.

Moomintroll sniffed. ‘Have you changed to a new brand?’ he asked. ‘Reminds me of raspberry leaves. Is it good?’

‘No,’ replied Snufkin. ‘But I smoke it only on Sundays.’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Moomintroll a little wonderingly. ‘It’s Sunday, really. Well, cheerio then, I’m going to bed!’

‘Yip, yip!’ replied Snufkin.

*

Moomintroll returned by way of the brown pool behind the hammock tree. He looked down into the water. Yes, the bangles were there.

He began to search the long grass.

It was quite a long time before he found the bark schooner. The back stay had got entangled in a bush, but it was undamaged. Even the little hatch was in its place over the hold.

Moomintroll walked back through the garden to the house. The evening air was cool and mild, and the dewy flowers had a richer fragrance than ever before.

His mother was sitting on the steps. She was waiting for him.

She was holding something in her paws and smiling.

‘Know what I’ve got?’ she asked.

‘The dinghy!’ said Moomintroll, and burst out laughing. Not because anything was especially funny, but just because he felt so very happy.

*Moomin people thank each other not only for tea but after every meal they eat together. They like to feel polite. Translator.

*Do it again! Author.